Be a Halfblood
by demigodstuck
Summary: A Homestuck and PJatO crossover involving the kids as Halfbloods.
1. Enter name

**==Enter name.**

**Y**our name is John Egbert.

And, to be fair, it hadn't been your fault at all.

Hadn't been your fault that you couldn't stand those silly award ceremonies. Hadn't been your fault that the orator was soooo boring you had to pretend you had to use the bathroom just to get out of there. Hadn't been your fault when you just rolled your eyes at your mom when she asked if you needed her to come along (because geeeeez, who has bathroom buddies in eighth grade?). hadn't been your fault that you didn't think much of it at all when you felt like you were being followed. Hadn't been your fault when your science teacher came up to you that you didn't listen to that nagging suspicion in the back of your head that hey, maybe you're in danger or something.

No, of course not. Nothing had been-or ever will be-your fault.

* * *

><p>It was really cool, your friends had said, that you got to travel across the country for an award ceremony. The idea in itself, of course, is something any thirteen-year-old might find exciting.<p>

But to be frank, you're really only looking forward to the plane ride. Never been out of state before, so it isn't like you ever needed to go on one (it seemed like your mom never quite liked travelling).

Unfortunately a certain friend doesn't share your same enthusiasm.

"God, I feel sick-John, where's the brown bag?"

Under the seat, apparently, when you go searching for it and hand it over to Casey.

Casey is small, short, and really, really, really pretty-to the point that it makes you think that maybe it's an unnatural beauty. Like she isn't human. (But, really, now, how silly is that?) She also has a really weird habit of bringing a whole pack of water bottles with her, and the strangest part is that she actually drank _all of it_. If you hadn't known any better, you would've thought she drinks more than she eats! All odd habits aside, though, she's a great friend, and, oh wow, you really hope she isn't going to throw up because that would be kind of _really gross._

You must've let it show on your face, too, because you're soon glared down by a pair of tired but frustrated amber eyes.

"Don't give me that look. You know how I am with airplanes," she mutters through her hand, face turning a bit greener.

"Actually," you grin at her, "I kind of don't, since I've never been on one before, let alone with you."

Casey mumbles something along the lines of "smartass," and "you jerk," and then shoves you so that you nearly fall off the edge of your seat. "Hey-!"

"Settle down, you two."

Oh, right. Mom. She'd been sitting next to you, her expression amused at the exchange between the two children, but it's clear that she's also concerned for Casey's well-being. "Are you all right, dear?"

Casey nods weakly, falling completely silent, like if she'd started talking again, she'd throw up. Somehow, you don't doubt that, but it makes you wonder why she bothered to come in the first place (what had she been expecting you to do-drive across the country?), but she'd insisted on tagging along, and to be honest, you don't mind her company.

"Don't tease her so much," your mother whispers, nudging you gently. You nod. "She's doing it for your benefit, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, I know!" Geez, how much are you going to be scolded? You roll your eyes and stare out the little window, admiring the view. Some weird part of you wants to be out there, in the open sky. Like, literally. You wish you could fly. Sure, you were already thirteen and still thinking that, but screw the police, you do what you want.

After you finally feel a little stupid for staring out the window for so long, you shift your gaze back to Casey, who looks pale and green at the same time, and then Mom, who had dozed off; you shuffle your feet anxiously. ADHD can't be kicking in yet, can it? You'd taken your medicine an hour before the flight.

But the antsy feeling doesn't go away, and your eyes finally move to your science teacher, Mrs. Dulac, who is sitting a few rows up front. Her frayed pink tweed jacket stands out like a neon sign among the rest of the passengers-she'd always had the most terrible sense of fashion, and an even more terrible sense of, well, _being human._ (How she's the head of the science department baffles you. And you're pretty sure that it's because she's department head that she has to tag along, to represent the school and all.) Like, sure, maybe you always seem like the troublemaker-you prefer the term "prankster"-of the class, but you aren't a bad kid. Oh, _but no_, Mrs. Dulac would have none of that. John was pretty sure she'd given him more detentions than all of the teachers he'd ever had give them, and that was saying a lot, since he'd switched in out of seven schools.

You blame it on her bad sense of humor. Can't tell a joke unless it hits her in the face with a water balloon. (Funny thing, though, since it's happened before, and with all credit due to yours truly.)

Alarmingly, she turns around and gives you the most deadly look, all steely and threatening and all. Oh, God. You swallow, wanting to stare at something else, but somehow you can't and the most cold feeling makes its way to your stomach like you'd just downed an entire glass of ice-cold water. Your hair stands on end-should you be anticipating something? But what? As mean as old Mrs. Dulac can be, she's still a teacher, and she can't hurt you.

You lick your lips, which had gone completely dry. _Right?_

No one answers you, of course, and then the thought dissolves almost completely when the plane shudders dangerously, catching you unawares. Mrs. Dulac turns away from you, but relief doesn't settle in on you yet; you can just imagine her writing you up for "rude and excessive eye contact, _as well being part of existence._"

"Ladies and gentlemen," the fight attendant's voice comes from the intercom all calm and the like (though it's a bit louder than usual, which seems natural from all of the startled noises the passengers are making), "please remain seated. We are experiencing some turbulence, but it should not last for very long. Keep your seatbelts on until the lights dictate otherwise."

Casey looks worse than ever now, but her eyes dart about as if she were looking for something...

(And somehow, Mom was still asleep.)

You grip the arms of your seat nervously, closing your eyes. You sure hope you aren't going to crash or something; that would kind of be really bad. You suck in your breath between your teeth, wincing when the cold feeling in your stomach returns, except it isn't bad or anything, just weird... Really weird. And by the time you open your eyes again, Casey's shaking you by your shoulder, looking sick but also concerned.

"Hey-you all right there?" her voice comes out a little choked, and you have a hard time figuring out whether it's because she's scared or whether she's just holding down her vomit. Probably both. "The plane's landed already."

You nod silently, a bit dazed. Your earlier anxiety is gone now, replaced by a numbing sort of lethargy.

"Oh, okay."

And then you try your best not to listen to the gruesome sounds Casey makes when she empties whatever crappy airplane food that'd been inside her stomach and into the paper bag.

Now that the plane ride's over, the rest of your trip has been relatively uneventful. Yeah, you feel a little drained for some unknown reason, walking around lightheaded and all. But it's not so bad, you think. Kind of.

Other people, though, seem to be a lot more enthusiastic by this development; Casey's skin has turned back to its normal shade so that she doesn't look like she's smudged green powder all over her face. In fact, she almost looks absolutely normal now, as if she'd never been sick in the first place, but she just won't stop drinking water.

"Aren't you going to need to use the bathroom sometime soon, with the amount of water you're downing?" you inquire, sauntering over to her with your suitcase in tow. "We're gonna be on a bus for the next twenty minutes to get to the hotel, so..."

She gives you a look as if that had been a stupid question, and then answers with a short, "No," before starting to drink again.

"Come on, kids," Mom calls from up front, standing at the line waiting for the next bus. "Stop dilly-dallying!"

You tighten your grip on your bags, picking up your pace. "Uh-huh, I'm comin'!"

But you wish you were able to notice the way Mrs. Dulac had been eyeing you this entire time you've been off the plane, like she's waiting for you to do something wrong and get you for good.

Not that you're sure what that something is, though. Not for a while.


	2. John: Be sure for better or for worse

**==John: Become sure, for better or worse.**

**J**ohn? What John would be subject to this referral? Why, you don't think that you've even ever known of anyone by the name of John. Which is strange, to say the least; it's a very common name in other parts and you're sure that many a gentleman introduces himself as John! But _you_ most certainly don't.

Your name is Jake English and more than anything, you like to run.

Running is one of the finer things in life, and you do it well—you're not sure whether you enjoy it so much because of your father, or because you really do love it, but you're one hundred percent certain that you've acquired most of your skill from him. There's something quite relaxing in pacing yourself, having your feet moving in a swift rhythm along any sort of terrain, in keeping your balance and breathing in, out, in, out. After a good run you always feel happier than you did before. You always feel lighter, like anything is possible.

Being a demigod (a son of Hermes, to be exact, which doesn't make you of the highest renown but you're still rather at peace with who your father is), there are a great many things that are.

Trekking through the city while dodging civilians and pedestrians on bicycles only goes so far. The annual summer trip to Camp Half-blood, safe haven for demigods and assorted other mythical creatures, has always been the one thing you looked forward to most during the school year—as well as the one thing your grandmother has forever loathed the most. You suppose that the reason is because she can't keep an eye on you while you're away, but if you're honest, that's one of your more prominent reasons for going in the first place. That, and running through the forest surrounding the camp, dodging fallen logs and protruding tree roots instead of people, is far more satisfactory than running anywhere else. Perhaps it's the knowledge that you don't have to pretend to get tired quickly like everyone else, or maybe simply because your light-footedness feels more natural in a natural environment, but whatever it is, you tend to make sure that you're one of the few campers who rise far earlier than they need to. You strive to do so in order to make certain that you're in the best shape you possibly can be.

Who knows when your athletic abilities will come into play as something supremely useful, after all? Quests are neither a concept nor an assigned activity that you're unfamiliar with, and you're rather hopeful that you'll get to go on another one soon—in fact, you know that you will!

All you have to do is wait patiently and make sure you're properly prepared.

When you were younger, the admittedly few field trips (you'd just finished first grade when you'd been told of your heritage) you'd ever gone on were—in general—boring to you: you could never concentrate for too long on what the tour guide in any museum was talking about, and you had to blink a couple times to even be able to compute even a few words of descriptions from the small plaques on exhibits. There'd been reasons for that that you'd discovered later, but back then your assumed inabilities were simply a nuisance.

Summer field trips are far more interesting.

The most interesting, by far, are the trips taken to Olympus; the place itself is most definitely intriguing, as well as the information it offers. If you care to look and listen, the Gods are more telling than they think! It was in that way that you'd deduced that the big quest you're looking forward to might not be so far off. Granted, you've made sure to keep it quiet, since you don't think that the Gods would take too kindly to having their unrest broadcasted for all to hear, but still, you have the knowledge. It's that knowledge that has you working so hard these days, to the mixed annoyance and amusement of the other currently in-residence campers.

It takes about half an hour for you to work up a light sweat while you're running, now, and you've been trying to lengthen that time, throwing yourself eagerly into training routines as well as spending your free time gallivanting through the forest. Normally you circumvent Camp Half-Blood along the borders a few times, just in case there's a new camper coming in that requires your assistance (which hasn't happened yet but has a chance of occurring!), and occasionally running into another fellow that you're quite sure you'd rather talk about later.

Eventually, though, you reluctantly remind yourself through the light feeling that running never fails to give you that you have other duties to attend to, and head back to camp.

The Hermes cabin is empty when you amble in through the front door, though many of the beds are made up as usual—you've got no issues with that, however. Not all of the Gods claim their children, and you're more than willing to let the undetermined kids stay in your cabin until they do. (While it is not entirely your choice, you don't need to be asked to take them in either way.) You cross the distance to your stowed belongings and sit yourself down on top of the bed, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply, exhaling slowly afterwards. Once finished, you lean down to retie the laces of your shoes. You've got work to do, and you don't want to trip up, after all!

(It's almost a joke to say that; you're not sure you've ever actually tripped in your life.)

You exit the cabin once you feel that you're ready to get something done. During midday the sun always beats down on the camp mercilessly, and you're forced to shield your eyes as they survey the area, searching for—

"Chiron wants to see you, Jake," someone calls out to you.

Your eyebrows raise of their own volition as your head turns in the direction of the caller, curiosity settling into even your mannerisms. "Oh? Did he say why?" you inquire in return, interest peaked. You try to quell the excited feeling rising in your stomach, scolding yourself for getting hopeful. (_Perhaps it's about a quest?_)

"Nah, but I saw," they respond. "We've got ourselves a brand new camper."


	3. Jake: Check out this new camper

**==Jake: Check out this new camper.**

What? _Who_? You're not Jake. The hell are you guys talking about.

"Hey, Strider! You see the new kid yet?"

You shrug lazily, occupied by the glowing screen of your iPod. Your fellow cabinmate doesn't seem to notice, and only continues to talk to you.

"Bet he's Athena's kid. Blue eyes were a trait of Athena's, right?"  
>You look up at him from your bed on the lower bunk, expression blank. You select a song at random, immediately relaxing as the music fills your ears. He says a few more things you couldn't quite make out before pursing his lips and sighing, finally giving up on talking to you. You watch as he says something along the lines of "see you later", then walks out of the cabin.<p>

Your name is Dave Strider, and you love when you are alone.

You aren't sure if it's just the perfect time to relax and listen to some sweet tunes, or if it's just the calm atmosphere of not having to deal with your new cabinmates. Sure, the Hermes cabin wasn't really your idea of "peaceful", but at least you had some friends there. Now all you did to occupy your stay in the Apollo cabin was listen to music, and just hope that what they were saying was uninteresting as it always was. They would occasionally invite you to go shoot some game with them in the woods, but you never accepted, simply saying that you didn't want to.

Eventually, they just gave up on you altogether, not bothering to ask you what you want to do.

In a way, you were the puzzle piece that didn't fit in the Apollo cabin, though you were supposed to. All cabinmates of any cabin, be it Athena or Hephaestus, share something in common, and can usually get along with eachother. You, however, were the exception. Still, you didn't know if it was just that you didn't have anything in common with them, or that you just didn't try to.

But every now and then, you'd hang out near the Hermes cabin, with the old friends you had made in your years stay there. You were always fond of Jake English, the cabin leader. He was the first to greet you, the first to really get warmed up to you, and the first to introduce you to his friends. Whenever Jake invited you to go hunting, you would gladly accept — though still keeping your stoic exterior. He was like your brother in a way. Well, more like a brother than anyone else you knew.

You sigh, glancing around the room littered with bows and arrows, papers with poems scribbled on them, and the typical assortment of camp gear. You had archery scheduled for today. You don't think you are going to show up.  
>Laying back in your bed, you close your eyes, drifing to sleep with the music still playing.<p>

* * *

><p>For what only seemed to last you five minutes, you find yourself being woken with hands shaking your arm. You look up to see Jake, blinking a few times before sitting up. You pluck out the earbuds from your ears, music still blasting.<p>

"How long was I out?" you mumble, feeling slightly disoriented.

"Not sure, Dave! But you know the game is tonight. We are rallying up our team members. That includes you, I believe," he joked, knowing that you had a history of skipping out on games like this, ever since you moved cabins. You huff out a breath of air and fumble around for your iPod, switching it off and throwing it haphazardly behind you (Didn't have to worry about thieves anymore). Jake eyes it with interest, like he was just waiting for the opportunity to snatch it, but that was common with all Hermes kids. Jake, however, had restraint. You see him swallow as he stares at it, quickly flicking his head back to yours. You stand up, holding back a yawn as you walk with him out of the cabin.

It was already dark outside. You had to have been asleep for hours. It was typical for you to sleep in like this — no Apollo kids wanted to try waking you up whenever you passed out. You weren't sure if it was because they were totally cool with letting a guy sleep, or that they were just afraid of you. You doubted it was either of those.

Jake brings you to a small group of people gathered near the archery range, where some Apollo kids were practicing for later tonight. The group comprised of the cabin leaders of Hermes, Apollo and Athena, and a few well known kids from each, as well. Jake patted your back encouragingly before joining up with the other Hermes members.

"Hey Dave," your cabin leader, a tall golden haired boy named Andrew spoke up, greeting you with a smile. You respond with a blank face, stuffing your hands into your pockets.

"We were just discussing our battle plans," spoke up a child of Athena, your friend, Rose Lalonde. "Jake and I thought it would be a good idea to involve you, seeing as though you are the best shot in your cabin."

You stay completely still, completely silent. You knew what they were going to ask of you. You weren't sure, however, that you would accept.

As if on cue, Andrew piped in. "Definitely. And since you're new to Apollo and all that, we thought it would be even better to get you involved. Good chance to meet new people."

The rest of the group nodded with all too fake smiles. You gave an uneasy glance at Jake.

"Can we get back to the plans, now?" an Athena kid sighed. "We have much to discuss."

"This is part of the plan," Andrew said, waving a hand in the air. "Dave, like Rose said, you're a pretty good shot. Better than a lot of the Apollo kids. Natural talent."  
>You shrug, bored as ever. A long and awkward moment of silence follows, since he's waiting for you to answer. Some sort of agreement. Acknowledgement. Of course, you don't speak up.<p>

"So," he says, trying to keep the conversation going. "I think you would be an asset if we placed you at the creek. You just have to shoot down anyone who runs past." He smiles a toothy, snide grin, his voice sarcastic. "No maiming, of course."

He turns and calls to one of the kids at the range, pointing a thumb back at you. The kid understands immediately, making his way to a small rack that held an assortment of bows and arrows for training. He sorts through them, eventually pulling out a bow and a matching quiver — your set. He runs over to the group and hands the equipment off to Andrew, immediately returning to his post.

Andrew turns back to you and holds out the set, smiling what appears to be a genuine smile. "So here. These are yours, right? Anyways, I think you'll do fine at your post. And plenty of kids run by, so you'll have plenty of targets! The others and I will go for the flag. And don't worry, you'll do fine."

You stare at the bow and quiver, the boredom you felt extremely evident on your face. You shake your head and look back to him. "No."

He looks confused, as if you are going to wave your hands in the air and scream "got ya". You were completely serious. "What? Pff, come on dude, let's be serious here."

"I am being serious. I'm not touching those again. And I'm not just gonna stand there and do nothing while you all get to do the fun shit," you mumble, not looking away from him for a second. "Get some other guy."

By this point, you just know that Jake and Rose are staring at you, completely in shock. Andrew's standing there, trying to figure out what to say. "But— uh, Dave. Um."

Another awkward silence, and you are staring at him defiantly.

"Okay, fine. I've seen you with a sword, and you're pretty good with that too, so how about offense?" he says, trying to keep his tone lighter, but you could tell that you were aggravating him. Jake and Rose nod in approval, but you say nothing, to which he assumes you agree. "So, you'll be on the offensive team with me and the others. We were going to talk about strategies anyways, so why don't you stick around?"

You don't say a word as he immediately begins to talk with the others.

* * *

><p>One quick slice and the straw dummy's head crashes to the ground.<p>

Andrew said you'd better get some training in, so you were happy to oblige.  
>You stare down blankly at the blade of your sword, then down at the lump of straw on the hard, concrete floor. Sloppy. If you were going to have any chance tonight, you'd have to be better.<p>

You sigh as you look around the small stadium for new targets — a few flat, wooden carvings of monsters and beasts stood around the arena. Perfect. You make your way to a carving of a hydra, and immediately begin to hack down on it. In a matter of seconds, the hydra had lost all of its heads, and its tail. But the cuts weren't straight. _His_ were, yours weren't. And at this rate, you'd have no chance of beating him. You turn and pierce your sword into a wooden gorgon, stabbing the heart point-blank.

Better, but still not good enough.

In a matter of seconds, her head is rolling to join the hydra's. Holding your sword at your side, you glance around the arena at other kids who were training, barely seeming to notice you.

Except for one kid, who kept glancing over at you while an older, more experienced member of the Hermes cabin, was trying to teach him how to wield a dagger. You didn't recognize him, which was strange — you knew every single person in the camp, as well as how they looked. But this one. You've never seen him before.  
>He was watching you as you were practicing, clearly stunned by how good you were with a sword. You decided to ignore him, continuing your work on the rest of the gorgon.<p>

But the sun was beginning to set, and the woods began to come alive with sounds.

Capture the flag will start soon.

* * *

><p>Jake came to retrieve you and the other members of your team's camp that had been training in the arena, making sure to compliment you on your work. Before long, you and all of the other campers, separated into your teams, stood before the forest, getting ready for the game to begin. You glanced around, noticing some Ares campers polishing the tips of their spears, a few Apollo kids making sure they were stocked with arrows, a Hermes kid attempting to pick-pocket an unsuspecting victim.<p>

Andrew called you over as the camp leaders made a few announcements.

"Do you remember the plan?" he whispers, glancing at the sword at your side.

Before you can respond, he takes the liberty of responding for you. "We're gonna go as a group to take out some key players. Some of those tough Ares kids. And the Hephaestus kids. Got it?"

You nod, guessing it was the only way you could respond.

And then, the horn starts. Your team gets to run in first, place the flag, and then wait for the second horn to blow — then the fun can start. Your team darts into the woods, carrying a silken flag of an owl holding a bow and arrow in its talons, a caduceus in the background. It looked like it was made of solid gold, with a small silver sparke to it. A symbol for the allied teams. And if they lost, the flag would magically change into symbols of the winning team.

In a flash, the flag disappears into the forest, along with the rest of your team. You quickly join them, catching up with the cabin leaders. Jake, being the fastest, was running to hide the flag, so he was not among the others. Rose and Andrew were discussing something as they went — something that was problematic.

"Just give him a chance. That's what Jake said to do," Rose says, keeping a steady pace. "They said he did alright with a dagger. What harm would it be!"

Andrew, sighing, shook his head. "Fine, it's your call. But good luck finding someone who will babysit! I'm going for the flag, so he isn't my responsibility."

"As am I," Rose said, obviously irritated that he wouldn't completely side with her, since she's supposed to be wise and all. "I think we need to give him a chance. Let him show us what he can do."

As everyone is crossing the creek, Rose stops, directing the defensive players to their posts. Andrew, along with the offensive players, continue on their way, making sure the flag is well hidden before they ever begin searching for the other team's. You stop, too, curious as to what the problem was.

"What was the deal with Andrew?" you ask, adjusting your shades. "Were you guys talking about me?"

That couldn't be the case. You hated daggers.

"No, no. We were talking about the new camper. I thought it would be a good idea to let him go on the offensive— oh, hold on. You all, go into the woods by the right flank. Keep on the alert when the second horn blows. Anyways, Dave, I just wanted to give him a shot, but I need someone to keep an eye on him," she sighs, directing a few more people before the whole team is on their way to their posts. Save for one kid. She looks at him and then back to you, obviously formulating a plan.

"John?" the kid perks up, a small, polite smile on his face. "I'm going to pair you up with Dave, here."

She turns to you, obviously aware of your discontent. "Dave, can you look after him, please? I'll pay you back later. Right now, I need to join up with the others."

She waves goodbye, adding a smile before running into the forest.

You look over to him, keeping your face blank. Immediately, you recognize him — this was the kid who was watching you, back at the arena. The one so fascinated with your skills. And now you had to make sure he didn't go off and hurt himself.

What a way of ruining your plans.

The second horn sounds, and you decide that you weren't going to let him get in the way.

* * *

><p>Leading him into the forest was one thing. Making sure he didn't trip on the weeds was another. Constantly, he was stumbling, making you stop and make sure he didn't fall on his face.<p>

You begin to ignore him, making your way through the forest parallel to the creek. Left. You were pretty sure he would be by the left flank.

The sounds of the other team making their way through the woods began to get louder and louder. Crunches of twigs and quiet whispers. They were getting close.

You crouch down on the ground, the new kid immediately following by your example. When you are on the ground, he crawls next to you, smiling a goofy ass smile.

"Dave, right? Nice to meet you! I'm John, by the w—"

"Shut up, you're giving away our position."

"Oh, um, alright."

You stay completely silent, waiting for the sounds to pass. John looks around in confusion before looking back at you.

"I know we're supposed to be offense and all that," he says, trying to whisper.

"…But shouldn't we do something about those guys?"

You shake your head, only speaking when you are sure they can't hear you. All of the sounds finally fade. "Doesn't matter. They can handle it."

And then you are back up, picking your sword off of the ground. John stands up as well, brushing the dirt off of his knees. You show no interest in cleaning up. You carefully walk passed the trees, making sure to keep your steps as discreet as possible, while John, on the other hand, makes no attempt at being quiet. Hell, he's still trying to talk to you.

"So, when I got here, I was so surprised to hear that my dad was actually a god! I mean, that's ridiculous, I just couldn't believe it. I still kinda don't, but don't tell them that, okay?"

A few minutes go by.

"You are really good with that sword, you know? I saw you practicing earlier, and it was really cool. You should totally teach me how to use a sword. Then I can be some sort of knight with some stupid armor."

You walk impatiently down the creek.

"Y'know, I like the Hermes cabin. I mean, everyone there is really nice, even if they do try to steal my food all the time. That Jake guy is pretty cool, too. I wonder if Hermes is my dad…"

No matter how many times you told him to be quiet, he would just continue talking in a matter of minutes. You guessed that he's never played capture the flag before. Especially not in a camp of demigods with weapons. Yeah, probably not.

But it wouldn't be long, now. He had to be close.

"Did that Andrew guy tell you to come down here?" John asks, a little nervous. "I thought we were supposed to be with the others."

You ignore him, getting close to the ground. You saw the dim glint of blond hair, much like yours, accompanied by the reflection of the moon on sunglasses. Andrew said he wanted to take out the strong campers, so if he asks, you were simply doing as instructed. You gesture John to stay on the ground, making sure he doesn't follow you, before standing up.

Almost immediately, the boy notices you, turning to face you. His own sword gleamed in the moonlight. You could hear John looking up to see what was happening, the sound of leaves under his feet giving him away. The boy notices, smirking at you. You knew what it meant — "Oh, did you come with backup?"  
>Ignoring his smirk, ignoring John, and ignoring the sounds of campers off in the distance, you raise your sword, and slash down at the boy.<p> 


End file.
